


Green Dress

by invisible_nobody



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan
Genre: Bullying, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Genderfluid Character, transgirl character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:18:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisible_nobody/pseuds/invisible_nobody
Summary: She wore a green dress to school.





	Green Dress

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this without mentioning names on purpose, btw. Enjoy!

Green Dress

She’s different.

She wasn’t sure what was different about her at first, but something was always off. She’s always felt different than her classmates, back when she was still in school. Long before she was able to put a name to how she felt, she began expressing herself. She’d always been a strong-willed, stubborn person; that’s why she decided to wear what she wanted to, no matter what her father said. She didn’t care. 

She would never forget that day, when she was eight-years-old. 

She wore a green dress to school.

Before she had left the house, she looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She looked pretty (she had wondered if it was okay to say that word) and she was excited. She didn’t think the other kids would like it - but they didn’t have to, she had thought. She was also lucky that she had a good memory, because her parents had outright refused to drive her to school that morning. Her father had, in fact, tried to force the dress off of her. That resulted in a nice set of bruises. She didn’t care.

She traversed the streets, which felt endless to an eight-year-old, to the local elementary school. Her smiled widened as she opened the Main Office doors. She paused, ran her fingers through her short brown hair, and then entered the hallways.

It was almost instant response. As soon as her peers saw her, their eyes were glued; they couldn’t look away. She remembered all their eyes. Not always the names or the faces - just the eyes. Their smiles, too, and the sound of tens of children all laughing together. She hadn’t understood their laughter, since she had been expecting anger, but she rolled with it. She either gave them a sickly sweet smile, or glared at them. She didn’t care.

She ignored their stares and their whispers, only answering a question when it came from her teacher. Looking back, she remembered the teacher’s facial muscles tightening ever-so-slightly when her only answer to the questioning was that she wore it because she wanted to. Even during class, however, their work was insufficient at silencing the other children. She didn’t care.

And then it all fell apart at recess, she remembered. Her entire grade was outside, playing on the playground. One of the two usual monitors was out sick, unfortunately for her, so there was only one set of adult eyes watching a rambunctious group of eighty or so third graders. That was the perfect opportunity for a certain group of five kids to wander over to her, obviously there to make fun of her. She didn’t care.

They laughed and teased, but she was hardened against their words - it was nothing that she hadn’t already heard from her parents. She had known better than to listen to them, so she hadn’t; she ignored them, continuing to sit on the swing. It became impossible to ignore them when they got angry, and pushed her off. Surprised, she had fallen onto the wood chips haphazardly, scraping her knees. She gulped, but tried to get back to her feet. She didn’t care. 

They refused to let her, however. They began kicking and hitting her, in whatever spot they could connect with. Her legs, her knees, her stomach, her arms - it didn’t matter to a bunch of kids. They only hit. And hit. And no matter how many times she tried to get up, five kids was far too many for her to slip past. And it hurt - hurt badly. She knew she cried - how could an eight-year-old not? - but that’s not the vivid part. She remembered the fear - the fear and the pain. In the moment, that’s all she had cared about, the fear and the pain; not whether she cared. 

Eventually her screams reached the monitor’s ears. They came over and made the kids stop, helping her to her feet and helping her to the nurse’s office. The kids were removed from the playground; sent to the principal's office. She believes that they got suspended. She was warned, though, not to provoke other children. They told her that it wasn’t her fault, but it was. And this time, she cared. 

She knew why they beat her up.

Because boys aren’t supposed to wear dresses.


End file.
